


in Flagrant Delicto

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon comes up with a daring plan to escape THRUSH's clutches, but only if Illya doesn't punch him first.  Warning - slash implied</p>
            </blockquote>





	in Flagrant Delicto

“This would be a good time for one of our daring escapes.”  Napoleon Solo looked over from a cot in their tiny cell.  The only other thing besides two narrow cots and a toilet in the room was his partner, Illya Kuryakin.  He’d already tried to detach the metal frame from the wall, but it was welded into a single piece.  The mattress was just a piece of foam without a cover.

“Well, unless you have an acetylene torch stuffed some place where THRUSH didn’t think to look, I got nothing.”  Illya was stretched out on the other cot, studying the seamless ceiling.  The one exit was the door which they had been pushed through after the ‘weapon recovery’ segment of their capture.  His body ached from THRUSH’s very thorough exam.  Their clothes were gone, their weapons were gone, all that remained was the torture part and his day would be a complete success.

“Since when do you give up?” 

“I haven’t given up.  I am merely recalculating the necessary formula required for the achieving of the impossible.”  Illya sighed long and hard.  “Where is an Innocent when you need one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I remember one time you pretended to be attacking our attractive but brainless charge and the THRUSH guard tripped over her nylons on his way in to save her.”  Another long sigh.  “No nylons… no Innocent…”  He glanced down at his underwear.  “It rather limits our options.”

A noise at the door made both men sit up.  It opened slowly and two guards entered.  One was carrying two trays while the other kept his rifle trained on them.

“Don’t move and I won’t shoot you… yet,” the taller guard muttered and his associate laughed.  He placed the trays down in the center of the floor and backed away.  “Go on.  You are both going to need your strength for what’s to come.”

Napoleon stood and walked over to the trays, reaching for them, but the rifle butt hit one hand away.  “Just yours, Solo.”

With a sigh, Illya got up and bent to retrieve his tray.  He expected a punch or a kick.  What he wasn’t expecting was to suddenly have his head caressed. 

“It’s a pity you are an UNCLE agent.”

“Why’s that?”  Illya pushed the hand away.

“We could have made beautiful music together.”  The man’s eyes dropped and Illya fought to keep from slamming the tray into the man’s face.

“Only if one of us was tone deaf.”  Illya managed to elude the rifle butt and retreated the far side of the cell.

“Come on, Oliver!”  The shorter man was already heading back to the door.  “Our orders were to feed them, not banter with them.”

Within a moment, Napoleon and Illya were alone again.  Napoleon sat with his tray and pushed what passed for food around aimlessly on it.  Illya ate, if only because he knew he’d need the energy later rather than actual desire.

“Illya, I think I have a plan.”

Illya’s utensil paused.  “For what?”

“Our escape”

“Do tell.”

“First, you need to promise me that you won’t punch me after I’ve told you.”

Illya’s eyes narrowed.  “What scheme are you concocting in that American skull of yours?”

                                                                                ****

Oliver pursed his lips and considered his options.  He could discard his five and destroy a chance of a straight or sacrifice his jack and lose his royal flush.  His concentration was so intent that it took a few moments for the noise to actually penetrate.

“What the hell is that?”  Stan laid his cards face down, for he didn’t trust anyone, especially his partner.  “It sounds like someone is strangling a goat.”

“You’ve heard a goat being strangled?”

“No, I just think they would sound like that.  It’s coming from the cell.”

“Get off me, Napoleon. Ow, you’re hurting me!”  The half shout, half moan made both men look at each other.  Wordless, they grabbed their weapons and walked quickly to the holding cell. 

Oliver silently slid back the speakeasy and looked in.  “Oh, my god…”

“And mine, as well,” Stan murmured and pulled away to the other side of the corridor.  “I thought it was just rumors… and we catch them _in flagrant delicto.”_

“That’s enough!” Oliver shouted and hurriedly opened the cell.  He ran in and pulled Solo off Kuryakin.  He turned to say something to his partner and that was his last conscious thought until he woke up an hour later with a blistering headache and tied up with his own belt.  He felt the weight of his partner against him and jostled the man.

“Hey, Stan. Wake up.” 

“What happened?”

“I think we blew our chances for promotion.”

                                                                                ****

They slipped out of THRUSH headquarters without anyone even pausing to look at them twice.  Who would pay attention to a couple of jump-suited THRUSH agents among the dozens who crawled all over the building?

They kept their pace measured and calm until they were well outside of the building.  Only then did Illya let out the breath he was holding. 

“I can’t believe that worked.”

Napoleon grinned and tapped his forehead.  “Never underestimate the little gray cells.”

“I never do.” 

“Do you have the code book?”

“I do.”

“Then let’s go home.”  Napoleon looked back at the compound and then his partner.  “I can’t wait to write this report.”

 


End file.
